Hot! Hot! Hot! Summer in the City
by siue060275
Summary: Pre-Plum short story set after Stephanie's divorce to Dickie, but before Joe goes FTA. It's summer in the city and it's hot! Alternate universe ending.
1. Hot!

**Part I: Hot!  
**(Stephanie's POV)

Five o'clock! Finally! With practiced efficiency, I shut down my computer, flipped off my under cabinet light, and grabbed my purse from my bottom desk drawer. It was five o'clock on Friday night and time to go home for the weekend. I weaved my way through the maze of five by five foot cubicles to the main aisle that led to the elevators. I shoved my way to the center of the crowd and hoped I wouldn't have to wait for more than two cars before I was able to get on.

It had been another long day in a series of excruciatingly long days at the office. My name is Stephanie Plum and I buy lingerie for the plus-sized woman. Between brief phone conversations where I haggle with sales reps from manufacturers of tent like teddies, I spend the majority of my day finding ways to pass the time. Thank God for the Internet. I can spend hours everyday reading the news, or playing games, or emailing my friends.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job. Well, I love what it allows me to do. I've got season tickets to the Rangers, a sweet Mazda Miata convertible, and my very own apartment outside of the Burg complete with a real wood dining room set, and a comfortable but classy living room suite. This job has given me independence and that means a lot to a girl from the Burg.

The Burg is a blue-collar chunk of Trenton, New Jersey settled mainly by Italians and Hungarians, but with enough other nationalities thrown in to prevent inbreeding. I was born and raised in the Burg and my parents still live in the same house on Roosevelt. Most of my friends from high school married their high school sweethearts and settled in the Burg right alongside their own parents.

But not me. I made a break for it and went to college at Rutgers, determined to get an education that would lead to a job that would give me independence. Instead, I met Dickie Orr. Dickie was charming, smart, good-looking, and goal-oriented. And he was a lawyer. He had nice clothes, and an even nicer car, and season tickets to the Rangers. I was hooked. Right after graduation we got married and bought a nice house, and I was prepared to live happily ever after.

Turns out, my charming, smart, good-looking husband was no more than a good-looking, lying, cheating bastard. One day, I came home from work early to find my husband doing the horizontal mambo on my dining room table with my arch nemesis, Joyce Barnhart. In our short, but vicious divorce, I found out that Joyce was just one of many and that I'd married the biggest horse's ass in Trenton.

I guess it's no surprise, though. I've never had good taste in men. As a sophomore in high school, I fell for a senior with the finest ass in Trenton, gorgeous body, melt-in-your mouth chocolate eyes, and a lousy reputation. His name was Joe Morelli and he grew up two blocks over from me. Our paths rarely crossed growing up, well, except for the one game of choo-choo in his dad's garage, so I was surprised when he showed up five minutes before closing time at the Tasty Pastry one day after school.

One minute after closing, I sold him a cannoli and he sold me on the idea to have sex behind the eclair case. One touch, one kiss, one whisper, and I had it bad. I had big dreams of a Burg wedding, a pack of kids, and the happily ever after. But, Joe Morelli had another idea. He stood up after our fifteen minutes together, pulled his jeans back on, and told me he had joined the Navy and was leaving in the morning. I was crushed. My dreams were shot to hell. My mother had always warned me about those Morelli boys, especially after the game of choo-choo, and I regretted not listening to her.

I got my revenge, though. Two years later, when Joe's stint in the Navy was up, he came back to the Burg. What for, I'm still not sure. If I'd've made it out like he did, I'd've never come back. Anyway, he was walking down the sidewalk in front of Giovichinni's when I happened to be driving by in my dad's Buick. Something came over me and I just snapped. I put the pedal to the medal, hopped the curb, and ran Joe over. Well, it was more like bumped him really hard, but it knocked him down at least.

Once I'd hit him, my senses returned and I started feeling a teensy bit guilty about running him over, even if he was a scum-sucking, virginity-stealing toad. I got out of the car to see if he was okay. He was sprawled all over the sidewalk and his leg looked like it was resting at a funny angle. _Anything broken,_ Id asked. _Yeah,_he'd said, _My leg. _I looked down at his leg again for a second and then back to his face and that's when I realized he was looking up my skirt. _You're scum!_ I'd shouted, stomped back to the Buick, and sped away.

The heat hit me in the face with the same force as a sledge hammer as I stepped into the soupy air in Newark, bringing me back to present day. The parking garage was three city blocks away, so I put my head down and tried to take shallow breaths. No need to breath more smog and humidity than necessary, I surmised. By the time I reached my Miata, my hair had twisted into tight, frizzy curls that bounced around my shoulders; my silk sleeveless shirt was plastered to my sweat soaked body; and my pantyhose had melted to my legs. It had to be 100 degrees outside. It was mid August and we'd just hit the first major heat wave of the summer. I guess we were lucky. It could've been like this for months.

After a quick glance around the parking garage for anybody watching me, I hiked up my skirt and peeled off my pantyhose. Much better, I thought. What the hell. I'd already sweated through my clothes; I might as well put the top down on the Miata and drive home in style. I cranked up the radio and tried to enjoy the drive home.

As I took the exit onto the Turnpike, I noticed the heat gauge in the car inching up. Probably it was just riding a little hot because it was so damn hot outside. With one eye on the road, and one eye on the heat gauge, I joined the pack of cars heading south to Trenton. Traffic was lighter since it was a Friday night during the summer, but even still, all lanes were full. The difference was traffic was moving instead of crawling.

The sun was beating down on me and even with the wind whipping my hair, I was hot. Sweat was dripping between my boobs and down my spine. Even my arms and legs were glistening with sweat. I couldn't wait to get home to my central air and take a cold shower. I glanced down again at the heat gauge and saw that the needle had inched even higher. I was still 20 miles out of Trenton, but that damn needle was just below the red zone on the gauge. Shit!

I started to panic. I was going to have to stop alongside of the Turnpike and call AAA if this damn gauge didn't go back to normal. I remembered my dad telling me once to turn on the heater if my car ever started to overheat. It was the next best thing to adding water to the radiator, he'd said. Since I didn't have any water or any idea where the radiator was, I turned on the heater full blast. Just when I thought it couldn't get any hotter, the heat hit me the face and raised the temperature around me by another 10 degrees. Quickly, I adjusted the setting to the floor, but then my feet felt like they were on fire. There was too much traffic to set cruise control, so I alternated putting my foot on the gas and pulling it away to cool it off. I was making myself carsick what with the lurching forward and backward with each pump of the gas, but at least, my feet weren't catching fire. It was more like stepping on hot coals.

The heater thing seemed to do the trick and the needle slowly lowered out of the danger zone. My father had never told me what happened if you kept driving with the needle in red, but I was sure I didn't want to find out. I drove another five miles before the needle started inching back up. Damn it! I was only 15 miles out of Trenton. Maybe I'd be able to make it. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes, pushed my hair back, and really gave it some gas. So what if my feet caught fire? I had to get this car off the road.

Five miles later, the needle was back in the danger zone. Huh? This must've been what Kenny Loggins was singing about. I was afraid to push my beautiful Mazda Miata any further. What if the engine blew up? After a string of curses that would make a sailor proud, I pulled my convertible over to the side of the road and stepped onto the shoulder.

The heat radiated from the pavement in shimmering, transparent waves, stealing my breath and obscuring my vision of the long line of cars. Horns wailed as commuters whizzed by on their way home to their own emergencies. The soles of my shoes were in danger of melting to the concrete with each step. I made my way around to the passenger side of the car so I wouldn't get run over and regrouped. No car phone or other means to call someone for help. Think Stephanie!

Okay. I think there's a motorist assist box a mile or so back. God, I hope it's just a mile. I can walk to the box and call for help. Short of waiting for some maniac to stop and help me, it was my best plan. In a moment of stupidity, I briefly considered closing the top of the convertible and locking it up. Wouldn't want it to get stolen. But then, I thought better of it. If some crook could drive it away without the engine blowing up, then they could have it!

I wasn't more than 50 feet from my car when a police cruiser pulled onto the shoulder, let the siren wail for one revolution, and flicked on the bank of lights. Great! Now what! When did it become a fucking crime to go for help for your broken down car?

The officer picked up his radio mic and began to speak into it. As I waited for the inevitable, I tried to make myself presentable. I straightened my beige skirt, well, it was beige before I sweated through it making it a darker shade of tan, peeled my white silk shirt from my chest and hoped it wasn't see through, and scraped the riot of frizzy curls out of my face as best I could. I tried wiping the sweat out of my eyes with the back of my hand, but it was useless. The back of my hand and arm were as sweaty as my face. And I didn't need a mirror to know that my make up had either run in ugly lines or melted off and my now natural face was beet red.

I waited, hands on hips, chin held high, for the officer to finish up on the radio already and get this over with. Finally, he stepped out of the cruiser, releasing all the cool air from inside the car into the raging inferno that was the New Jersey Turnpike. He looked as calm and cool as I'm sure it was back in the car. His uniform was crisp, fresh, and perfectly pressed and his black leather shoes had been polished to a blinding shine. His face was partially hidden under his hat, but his too long dark brown hair stuck out from under it, lying on his collar and his ears. Well, at least I got a good-looking cop, I thought, and tried to suppress my fantasies of men in uniform. Ever since Joe Morelli joined the Navy, I couldn't help but fantasize of him coming home on leave, wearing his sailors uniform and whisking me away into the sunset. I know, I know. I need to stop watching An Officer and a Gentleman, but a girl can have dreams.

As he walked closer, I got a better look at him: dark, Mediterranean skin; broad, strong shoulders; narrow waist; tanned and muscled arms. Mmmm. If this hadn't been the day from hell, maybe I'd've taken a chance and tried to get to know this guy. I tried to soften the look on my face as he approached - I wouldn't want to look like the bitch from hell - and went for an easy going smile.

"What seems to be the problem, maam?" Officer Hottie asked in a thick New Jersey accent.

"My car broke down," I gestured toward my Miata up the road a ways, "so I was walking to the nearest motorist assist box to call for a tow, Officer..." My eyes traveled from his still shadowed face down his firm body to his name plate. Morelli. Fuck! My eyes shot back up to his face which was finally visible now that he'd turned in the direction of the sun to look at my car. Sure enough. It was Joe Morelli. Any warm feelings I was having for this man evaporated as quickly as spill of water on the Turnpike. My face turned to stone and every bit of Jersey girl attitude I could muster oozed out of my pores, along with quite a bit of sweat. "Now if you don't mind, Id like to get to that phone before I melt."

I started to stalk past him, but he caught my arm. Heat spread through my body that had nothing to do with the 100 degree temperature. "Stephanie? Stephanie Plum?" he asked shock clearly visible on his face.

"Joe Morelli. Long time no see." My voice was flat, totally without emotion. "Or talk," I added.

Joe blushed. Good. Serves him right. As quickly as the shock appeared, it was gone again. His face was like a mask not giving away any of his emotions. "Ms. Plum, or is it Mrs. Orr?" his eyes narrowed before he continued, "The nearest call box is a good two miles back down the highway. Why don't you come cool off in my car and Ill call for a tow truck?"

Now, I had my pride, or what was left of it, and getting into Joe Morelli's car would be the equivalent of shredding it into tiny pieces. But on the other hand, it was hot. Blistering hot. I could feel the sunburn growing on my pale skin. Damn those Hungarian genes! Why couldn't I have gotten more of my fathers genes like Valerie? And I was sweating. Profusely. Which I'm sure wasn't such a good look for me. The need to look good in front of Joe Morelli and show him everything he'd been missing was almost as important as keeping my pride.

Joe's mask briefly slipped off and he said, "Jesus, Stephanie. I'm not some axe murdering creep." Hunh, I thought. Maybe not an axe murderer, at least not that I know of, but definitely a creep. "I just want to help you."

When I factored in the heat along with the need to look good, it tipped the scales in favor of getting into Joe Morelli's car. I swallowed my pride and said, "Thank you," and followed him back to the cruiser.

I was prepared to sit in the back where the criminals do. Probably that'd be the safest place for all involved anyway. What if I snapped again, and this time I scratched his eyes out? Or tore his clothes off? Wait, no. No one's clothes are coming off. I dont care how hot he looks in that uniform. Im not going down that path again. Been there, done that! And while the beginning and middle are the stuff fantasizes are made of, the ending down right sucks! Yep. I better sit in the back.

"What are you doing?" Joes face was screwed up in question when I followed him to the driver's side of the car and waited at the back door. "Go around to the passenger side. You can sit up front."

"Probably that's not such a good idea."

Joes eyes melted into pools of chocolate before he said, "I promise, Ill be on my best behavior." He held up three fingers on his right hand and said, "Scouts honor."

"You were never a Boy Scout," I argued.

"No, but I ate lots of Brownies."

"You're a pig, you know that?" I leveled even while my internal heat was ratcheting up. Butterflies started swarming in my belly and I knew now more than ever that I should sit in the back.

"Come on, get in. I was just kidding," he said with a genuine smile.

"No, you weren't," I answered as I walked around to the other side of the car.

"You're right. I wasn't." The smile stayed firmly in place until we were both sitting inside the cruiser.

The blast of cold air felt so good that I forgot to be mad at him for a few minutes. I lowered my head to the double vents in the middle, closed my eyes, and let the cool air wash over me. When my head had stopped throbbing from near heat stroke, I scooted up on the seat and let the air cool my heated body. Joe got on his radio again and called in the location of my car for the tow truck.

After a few more minutes of basking in the air conditioning, I realized he wasn't talking on the radio anymore. I felt his eyes on me before I looked at him and I felt my face flushing once again, this time having nothing to do with the heat.

"You're staring." My voice sounded weak to my own ears.

"You look great, Steph."

Just when I thought I had him all figured out, he threw me for a loop. Why'd he have to be so charming? Remember, Stephanie. It was his charm and good looks that got you in trouble in the first place. I shoddily built back up my defenses and went for fake bravado. "Puh-leez." I yanked down the visor in front of me and glanced in the mirror. "I look like I was left in the deep fryer about an hour too long."

Joe shrugged. "Yeah, well, that too."

What'd I expect? I was asking for it. "So now what? We just sit here and wait for the tow truck?"

"That, or I could drive you home. Your car is being towed to Mr. Fix It on Eighteenth Street. You can settle up with Bucky in the morning."

"Bucky? Bucky Seidler?"

"Yeah. He took over his old man's business. Dumb as a box of rocks, but a damn good mechanic. Hell have that foreign piece of shit up and running in no time."

"Hey! You sound like my father," I said over the roaring motor of the cruiser. Joe turned off the lights, put on the blinker, and eased his way back into traffic.

"Your dad was a Buick man, right?" He paused and I nodded. "I always did like your dad."

Feeling a bit jealous of Joe's obvious preference for my father, I said, "Yeah, well, he didn't like you! Not after what you wrote about me at Mario's."

Joe laughed out loud. All his features relaxed and I remembered how dangerous he could be to my heart. "Hey, it was very complimentary. He should be proud."

I narrowed my eyes and asked, "What exactly did you say?"

"If you haven't heard by now, I'm not going to spoil it for you. Maybe you could send your husband into the stall to find out." I thought I heard a hint of jealousy in the word husband, but it was probably just wishful thinking.

"No, I can't."

"Sure you could. It's right above the toilet paper dispenser. You'd have to be a moron to miss it." Joe smiled, clearly pleased with his work.

"He's a moron alright, but he's not my husband. We're divorced." Everyone in the Burg knew about Dickie's and my highly publicized divorce. Word of his cheating spread like wild fire and I'd become somewhat of an urban legend for doing a complete head spin in divorce court like that little girl in the Exorcist. Still, I felt vulnerable airing out my inadequacies to Joe.

"What happened? Last my mother told me was that you were getting married to some low-life defense attorney."

"I caught him fucking Joyce Barnhardt on our dining room table one day after work. That was pretty much the last straw in a marriage destined for failure from the beginning." I shook my head at my stupidity. I married Dickie for all the wrong reasons. He represented things that I wanted and a way to get them. I never really loved him and I know he didnt love me.

"Joyce Barnhardt! What was he thinking? How do you give up such a sexy woman for some sleaze like Joyce?" He asked the last question almost to himself and shook his head in disbelief.

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Joe. I appreciate that coming from you. But to Joyce's credit, she got a boob job and her teeth fixed and dyed her hair platinum blonde. She looks pretty good as far as skanks go."

"I've seen her." Joe turned to me and looked directly in my eyes. "She's got nothing on you."

I broke eye contact first. I felt like his eyes were boring into my soul and I didnt want to let him in again.

"So, where do you live?" Joe asked, abruptly changing subjects.

"Oh, uh, in the apartment building on the corner of St. James and Dunworth," I answered still flustered by his compliment.

"So you made it out of the Burg too?" He smiled at me.

"Not far, but at least I'm on my own," I answered proudly.

"No roommate or boyfriend?"

I turned to look at Joe again, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the road. "No." A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

I cleared my throat and tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. Here I was hoping for a nice cool ride back to my apartment, but somehow it was hotter in the car than outside. "So, how long have you been on the force? My mother never told me you were working in Trenton."

"Smart woman," he smiled. "Ever since I got back from the Navy. About six years now. I take the Detective test next week and hopefully I can get out of this godawful uniform."

"I like the uniform," I blurted before I could gain control over my mouth.

"Yeah? Maybe Ill keep one then. Just in case." He winked at me.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, but my heart was pounding so hard in my chest I was sure Joe could hear it. "So you like being a cop?" I asked searching for a benign topic.

"Yeah, I do. I never thought I'd be on this side of the law, you know. I figured I'd follow in my old man's footsteps, drinking, fighting, and chasing skirts, always with one foot in jail. But I really like the work and the life. I saw first hand the damage my father's kind of lifestyle could do to him and everyone around him and I did not want to turn out like that. God knows thats the direction I was headed."

I was amazed by this grown up Joe Morelli. Now this was the kind of man a woman could fall in love with. "You're nothing like your father, Joe. Looks like you turned out to be a great guy," I said, surprising even myself with the ring of sincerity.

"That means a lot coming from you."

"Why?" I asked with shock visible on my face.

"Because I did you wrong and Im sorry, Steph. I was just a punk kid and didn't know what I'd be missing. I'm sorry."

I was absolutely blown away. My defenses were crumbling faster than I could build up new ones. "Apology accepted."

We rode in silence as Joe took the exit off the turnpike and onto I-95. We were almost home.

"What are you doing for a living these days? I heard you went to Rutgers."

"I'm a lingerie buyer for EE Martin," I replied reflexively.

A broad wolf grin spread across his face that made it all the way to his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No, why?" understanding just beginning to dawn on me.

"Lingerie? You're fantasy made flesh. Maybe when we get back to your place, you could model some things for me?"

I didn't bother telling him that the lingerie that I bought was big enough that we'd be able to wear it together. I figured there was no need to shatter his little fantasy. "You're scum, Morelli," I said without heat.

"Hey! A man's gotta try," he said through a smile.

A couple minutes later, Joe pulled the police car into the parking lot behind my apartment building. I'd finally cooled down and wasn't looking forward to stepping back out into the sweltering heat. And honestly, I was enjoying being with Joe again. Reluctantly, I opened the passenger door and stepped out into the blast furnace. If possible, it seemed to have gotten even hotter since my car broke down. Joe opened his door, too, and walked around to my side.

"Are you sure I can't come up? We could have some dinner, you could model some of that lingerie, and I could take it off you. You know, have some fun." Joe's voice was light, but his eyes were intense. There was a flicker of desire underneath the melt-in-your-mouth chocolate color that was just so tempting. Food had always been my down fall. And here I was, faced with a man with chocolate for eyes and a guarantee to break my heart. Again.

Joe closed the distance between us so that there wasn't more than an inch between our bodies. Heat radiated off him as sure as the macadam of the parking lot and I knew I was in trouble. My will was never very strong when it came to denying myself pleasure. And God knows Morelli was pleasure in the flesh.

Joe brushed his lips across mine and flames of desire licked at my belly. Why should anyone deny themselves this kind of pleasure? I mean, I was a grown up now and I didn't have any unrealistic expectations of him anymore. He wasn't asking me to marry him, just to go upstairs. Tomorrow, we could go from there.

Joe pressed his body flush against mine backing me up into the cruiser. His body was hard everywhere and I knew he wanted me as badly as I wanted him. He licked my lower lip and said, "What'd'ya say, Stephanie?"

"Yes," I breathed.

And then, his radio crackled to life. "Calling all officers. Theres a 211 in progress at the 7-11 on Hamilton. All available officers please respond."

"Fuck!" Joe pulled back and said, "I've gotta go."

"But wait," I pleaded.

Joe jogged back around the car and climbed in. He rolled down the window and shouted over the roaring engine, "I'll call you." He turned on his siren and flashing lights and screeched out of the parking lot and my life. Again. I was left standing in the parking lot, hot and bothered, and then just hot. Alone. Again.


	2. Hotter!

**Part II: Hotter  
**(Stephanie POV)

Completely at a loss for what to do next, I stood stock still in the middle of my parking lot and watched Joe Morelli's police cruiser speed away. A feeling of deja vu settled around me. My mind flashed to an image of Joe from eight years earlier standing up from the cold tile floor of the Tasty Pastry, pulling up his Levis, walking out the front door and out of my life as I sat on the floor with pretty much the same dumbfounded look on my face. This was starting to be a bad habit. Worse than smoking. Worse than drinking. Instead, I had some stupid addiction to Joe Morelli and my punishment was to continually watch the best ass in Trenton as it walked away from me.

Well, enough with that. Joe Morelli is now officially off limits. There's a reason people say to always trust your first impression. And my first impression of Joe Morelli was that he was scum. I've known it for eight years now. For that matter, I've known that he was up to no good for the last 18 years, going all the way back to the time he taught me to play choo-choo in his father's garage. My gut told me back then not to trust him when he wouldn't let me be the train. Am I really so shallow to fall for that lean, hard muscled body and chocolate eyes?

Okay, don't answer that. Of course, I'm that shallow. I'd been willing to overlook all kinds of signals and signs when it came to Dickie. Hell, the signs had been so damn obvious they might as well have said, "Dickie Orr is a Horse's Ass," in flashing neon lights. And he couldn't hold a candle to Joe's good looks and charm. Well, from now on, I'm focusing on all the doughy, homely, introverted men in the city. The good looking ones are just too dangerous to my heart.

I gathered what was left of my pride from the macadam and trudged to the back door of my apartment building. I felt childish as I shuffled my feet and kicked stray rocks as I walked. Too hot and exhausted to tackle the stairs, I pressed the up button on the elevator. The doors slid open and I wasn't surprised to find Mrs. Bestler and her walker inside.

"Going up?" she asked.

Mrs. Bestler is one of the many senior citizens that live in my building. Sometimes I wonder if the overflow from Sunset Hills Retirement Village isn't sent here. I'm the youngest person in the building by at least 35 years. In Mrs. Bestler's spare time, she pretends she's the elevator operator and rides up and down all day long.

"Second floor, Mrs. Bestler."

"Good choice, honey. Second floor: lingerie, handbags, makeup," she announced.

I squelched the urge to roll my eyes. Sometimes, Mrs. Bestler's antics are amusing. Today, it was just annoying.

Mrs. Bestler leaned a bit closer to me and whispered, "You might stop by the makeup counter, sweetie. You're looking a little withered."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened and I made my escape. "Thank you, Mrs. Bestler," I sighed and headed for my apartment.

I slid my key into the lock, anxious to be hit in the face by the wall of cold air in my apartment. The lock tumbled; I pulled open the door, and was hit with hot air. More hot air! You've got to be fucking kidding me! I stormed across my apartment to the thermostat and checked the settings. Everything looked fine. Thermostat was set at 72, just like always, and the little switch was set to cool. But it was telling me that it was 85 degrees in the apartment.

I screamed in frustration and stalked to my phone. I flipped through my address book searching for the number of the building super, Dillon. He picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, Dillon. It's Stephanie in 2B. My air conditioning isn't working."

"Man, that's too bad."

I blew out some hot air in frustration. "Well, can you do something about it?"

"Sure," he replied pleasantly. "I'll call the repairman and see if he can come out sometime next week."

"Next week," I screeched.

"Steph, they're really busy what with it being so hot. And I know the landlord won't pay for Sunday service," he explained, completely level headed.

"What I am supposed to do until then? It's 100 degrees outside!"

"Get a hotel room?" Dillon suggested before he disconnected.

I slammed the phone down and a strangled scream worked its way up and out of my throat. Next week. I've got to live in this stifling heat until next week. Far from giving up, but unsure of what my next move was, I stormed through the apartment throwing open all the windows in hopes of letting in a hint of a breeze.

Once there was some air moving through the apartment, I felt marginally better. With no air conditioning, my only hope for really cooling down was to take a cold shower. I stripped off my sweat soaked clothes and dropped them in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Catching a glimpse of myself standing naked in front of the mirror did nothing to improve my mood. My hair was totally frizzed out from the combination of dragging my hands through it in frustration and excessive humidity. My makeup had melted off for the most part, just as I'd expected. Nothing remained but smudges of mascara under my eyes. Great. Just what I needed. Something to _enhance_ the dark circles under my eyes. My skin was still flushed a warm pink color from enduring the unbearable afternoon heat. I can't remember a time that I looked worse.

And Joe had said I looked great.

What was it with that man? He couldn't have been serious. Although, he seemed serious enough when he pressed his body flush against mine. I could feel his seriousness, hard and thick, tight against my stomach.

Snap out of it, Stephanie! I shook my head, trying to chase away the warm, tingly feeling settling low in my belly. Just thinking about the way he felt against me was giving me another hot flash.

I stepped into the cold shower hoping it would do something to cool down my libido as well as my skin. I stood face first in the spray letting the cold water run over my hair and face, and flow down my body. The shower cooled my heated flesh, but did nothing to cool the desire coursing through me.

Well hell, I thought, why waste all this good, sexual heat? It's not like I've had a social orgasm in years. At least the heat was generated by a man even if I had to finish by myself. I grabbed the shower massager, tossed my head back, and let it do its job.

Twenty minutes later, I was much cooler and very relaxed and felt almost human again. I pulled my hair into a ponytail to keep it off my neck and dressed in the skimpiest tank top and pair of shorts I owned. I skipped the panties and bra, figuring the less clothes I wore, the cooler I'd be, and headed into the kitchen for something to eat.

Not a whole heck of a lot of choices in my kitchen. It was either Chinese leftovers from four nights ago or a peanut butter and olive sandwich. Since I'd eaten peanut butter and olive sandwiches the last three nights, I opted for the Chinese. I ripped the little metal handles off the take out boxes, gave them half a sniff for ptomaine, and popped the boxes in the microwave for two minutes. Luckily, I had beer. I cracked open a Bud Light, leaned against the counter, and counted down with the microwave until it dinged and I could devour the sesame chicken and pork fried rice.

I balanced the take out boxes, my beer, and the phone in my hands and headed for the living room. I'd had a shitty day and I needed some comforting. Without my mother's pot roast and pineapple upside cake, I settled for Ghostbusters, my all time favorite movie. I popped the VHS tape into the VCR, said a little prayer that the worn out tape would still track, and settled into the couch for the movie.

Sometime after I'd polished off the Chinese and halfway through the movie, there was a knock on the door. Damn it. I wasn't up for company. But on the off chance that it was Dillon with someone to fix my air conditioner, I paused the movie and went to answer the door.

I held my hand on the door knob and yelled through the door, "Who is it?"

"It's me," the voice on the other side of the door replied.

The voice was vaguely familiar, but I was having a hard time placing it. Maybe it was Dillon. I peered through the peephole and saw Joe Morelli smiling back at me. God, that smile! It nearly did me in. Just seeing him made me start sweating in inconvenient places again. Suck it up, Stephanie.

"Go away!"

"Come on, Steph. Open up."

"Thanks for the ride home, Joe, but no...no opening. Just go."

"I brought dessert."

I peeked through the peephole again. Sure enough. Morelli was holding out a white pastry bag and I'd bet $100 that he had chocolate chip canollis in there. If he'd been handsome this afternoon, then he was down right gorgeous now. He was everything he was this afternoon, but more relaxed, or real. He was still in his uniform, but his hat was off and his hair fell in soft waves over his forehead and ears. It just barely curled over the edge of his collar as if he was just overdue for a cut. The first couple buttons of his shirt were undone and his shirt was untucked and hung loosely around his waist.

I cursed under my breath because I knew I was done for. I was going to knowingly let the Big Bad Wolf into my home without hardly any huffing and puffing.

"Come on. You know you want to." He waved the bag in front of the peephole again, and on a long exhale, I slid back the chain, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door.

Joe smiled at me. The kind of smile that went all the way to his eyes and made my pulse kick up.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

We stood there on opposite sides of the threshold just staring into each others eyes until that squishy feeling in the pit of my stomach forced me to look away. "You can come in and share your dessert, but then you have to go."

I stepped aside and Joe walked past me into my kitchen. I closed the door behind him and rested my forehead against the door for a moment, mentally banging my head against it. _This is stupid. This is stupid. This is stupid._ I took a deep breath, and then went to look for Joe and that pastry bag.

Joe had laid out two paper towels on my small kitchen table and was rooting through the bag when I came into the kitchen. Sure enough he pulled out two chocolate chip canollis and set them on the paper towels. I rolled my eyes and laughed cynically.

"What?"

"Nothing," I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Hey, I was just trying to be nice. I thought you liked canollis. At least you did eight years ago."

"How gentlemanly of you to remind me of that."

"I've got fond memories of that night. You should, too, from what I remember."

My face flushed in spite of my best effort to stop it. My eyes shifted from his face. "I don't _really_ remember."

"Bullshit."

My eyes snapped back to his face. "Don't flatter yourself, Morelli."

"Cupcake, I hope you wear shades when you're playing poker 'cause your eyes are a dead give away. You remember that night. You remember what I did to you. And you remember how I made you feel."

Heat welled up inside my body. "I remember _you_ leaving."

My comment seemed to take some of the wind out of his sails. "I know. I was a rotten kid. I've apologized once, but I'll say it again. I'm sorry, Stephanie. I never wanted to hurt you."

The sincerity of his apology momentarily left me at a loss for words. Who was this man? And what had he done to Morelli?

Joe picked up his canolli. "Now come on and eat," he said on a grin. "Don't make me eat both of them." He took a big bite and softly moaned from satisfaction.

That feeling of deja vu settled around me for the second time today. Here I was, with Joe Morelli, being seduced by a chocolate chip canolli, for the second time in my 24 year long life. What was I supposed to do? Just a couple hours ago, I'd officially put Joe in the off-limits category. And then he showed up with a canolli. As if that wasn't a slap in the face. Well, I really had no choice. I did what any woman in my situation would've done.

I sat down next to Morelli and bit into my canolli.

Flaky pastry and smooth ricotta cream mixed on my tongue and I felt like I was in heaven. The bittersweet tang of the chocolate chips made my mouth water and I shut my eyes from sheer delight.

I opened my eyes to find Joe watching me. His hooded eyes had melted into pools of milk chocolate framed in dark black fringes of impossibly long lashes. The weight of his stare made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Time to get rid of him before I end up naked and on my back.

Standing up, I said with what I hoped was a dismissive smile, "Well, thanks for the canolli. It was delicious." I took a couple steps toward the door and continued, "I've got a busy day tomorrow and really should get to sleep."

Joe looked at his watch and said, "It's 8:30! Mooch told me you were unattached, but I didn't think he meant dead."

My hands flew to my hips and I took two big steps back toward him. "Listen, Morelli. I was just trying to be polite. What I should have said was, 'Get out!'"

Joe stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his fingers behind his head. He wasn't going anywhere. "You don't mean that."

"The hell I don't!"

"Liar. Your eyes gave you away again. Where's all this hostility coming from?"

"Maybe I'm just not attracted to you."

Joe raised one eyebrow. "Is that true?"

No! "Yes." I concentrated on keeping my eyes steady so he couldn't see the truth. My body was screaming in protest. _You idiot,_ it said. _Youre sending our only shot at a social orgasm away!_ Joe searched my face for a full minute. I nearly broke out in a sweat trying to maintain eye contact.

Finally, Joe stood up and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. Guess I was wrong." He approached me in the foyer and stopped. He reached up and stroked my face with his thumb. My eyes closed involuntarily because it felt so good. When he removed his hand, I reopened my eyes. "Bye, Stephanie."

He walked past me and opened the door.

"Wait!" God, why was I stopping him?

Joe turned around still holding the doorknob in his hand.

"I'm scared, okay?" I whispered.

"Scared?" Joe shut the door and came back to me. "Scared of what? You know me, Steph."

"That's the problem. I do know you. And you know me. You _know_ me and then you leave. Each time I've gotten close to you, you've left."

"We've only been together once."

"I know. But what about today? You were all handsome and charming and talked me into taking you upstairs and to bed. And as soon as I got the words out of my mouth, you took off. I'm just trying to protect myself from more heartache."

"Look, I'm sorry about this afternoon. Really, I couldn't help it. There was an armed robbery at the 7-11 on Hamilton and I had to go. My shift hadn't ended yet. God, I wanted to stay. I was _dying_ to stay."

"Really?" God, I sounded so pathetic.

"Really." Joe closed the distance between us, but I took a step back. I wasn't quite ready to trust him completely. This sounded good, but it always sounded good and we've been here before.

"I was watching Ghostbusters before you got here. Do you want to stay and watch the end?" I felt like I was 13 again, asking Johnnie Petrucci to the Spring Fling Dance, heart in my throat, every nerve exposed.

"Don't you have something with DeNiro in it?"

"It's Ghostbusters or nothing. Stay or go. You choose."

Joe rubbed his hand on his chin and screwed up his face to think, acting like he was making a really tough decision. I rolled my eyes. "What about popcorn?" he bargained.

"Sure."

"Candy?"

"Don't push your luck," I warned and headed for the kitchen to make a bag of popcorn. Joe went for the living room and settled in on the couch.

"Did you have company earlier?" he called into me.

"No." I called from the kitchen. "Why?"

_"You_ ate all this food?" The Chinese take out boxes were scattered all over my coffee table along with a couple dead Bud Light bottles.

"Out!"

Joe tipped his head back on the couch cushions and laughed. "I'm just kidding. Hurry up. I'm hungry. I didn't have a chance for dinner tonight."

I leaned against my kitchen cabinets and waited for the microwave to ding. My God, what was I getting myself into? Joe Morelli was sitting on my couch, waiting to watch Ghostbusters with me. Men would do just about anything if there was any hope of getting laid, I thought. Is that what I wanted? Getting laid by Joe Morelli? _God, yes_, my body screamed. Shut up, I told it.

"What?" Joe yelled.

"Huh?"

"Did you say something?" he asked.

"No, no." God, I said that out loud. I'm losing my mind.

The microwave dinged and I took the bag out and shook it to distribute the salt and butter. As I looked up to get a large bowl out for the popcorn, I saw Joe stretched out on the couch. He was reclining. Head resting on the back couch cushions. Feet propped up on the coffee table. Legs crossed at the ankles. One arm laying on the arm rest. The other arm stretched out along the back of the couch. He was completely relaxed and utterly sexy. His body was oozing sexuality and I wanted to lap it up.

I paused with my arm in mid air, reaching up for the bowl, and let my mind wander. I pictured myself curled up next to Joe on the couch. One arm wrapped around his stomach. My legs draped haphazardly over his legs. My head resting in the crook of his shoulder. His arm pulling me closer to him, into his lean, hard body...

"Why's it so hot in here? Don't you have air conditioning?"

Joe's voice brought me back to my senses. "Uh, yeah. But, its broken." Okay. So I wanted to have sex with Joe Morelli. Me and about every other woman in Trenton, I thought. I can be an adult about this. Just some quick, fun, casual sex. One of the many things women won during the sexual revolution. But somehow, the new rules had never made it to the Burg. Girls in the Burg still want the happily ever after, or at least sex that comes with rings. And with Joe Morelli's reputation as a heart-breaker, I wasn't about to get either of those things.

"Everything okay in there?"

I snatched the bowl and called back, "Yeah. I'll be right there." I dumped the popcorn into the bowl and grabbed two more beers from the fridge.

Deciding it was probably best to keep my distance, I dropped the bowl of popcorn on the middle couch cushion, put the beers on the coffee table, and sat down at the far end of the couch. Without missing a beat, Joe picked up the bowl and balanced it on his lap. Then, he reached down to my end of the couch and tugged me to sit right next to him. So much for distance, I thought as I squiggled a bit closer.

I picked up the remote and hit play. Joe went back to relaxing. He kept one arm stretched out behind me on the couch and used his other hand to eat the popcorn. I felt slightly awkward reaching into his lap for popcorn, so I crossed my hands in my lap.

Joe shook the bowl at me and said, "Don't you want some?"

_I want everything you're offering_, I thought_._ Instead, I said, "Thanks," and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

After a few minutes, I got caught up in the movie and the tension and awkwardness seemed to float out into the night air along with Bill Murray. That is until Joe dropped his arm around my shoulder. Immediately, my entire body tensed up. Here it comes, I thought. Next thing I know, he'll have me pinned beneath him and I'll be begging for him to take me. I willed my body to relax, letting the tension run down my arms and legs, and out my fingertips and toes, and then I waited _and hoped_.

Joe didn't seem to notice that I'd just had a small panic attack and he began to draw lazy circles with his thumb on the bare skin of my shoulder. My skin rippled with goose bumps as a warm flush spread throughout my body. The movie was on, but the Stay Puff'd man might as well have been in Mrs. Bestlers apartment for all that I heard at this point. My mind was focused intently on the small movement of Joe's hand against my skin.

Joe pulled me closer against him and tried to settle me into his shoulder. My body was stiff as a board and uncooperative. We sat like that until the movie was over and the credits rolled up the screen. I was too tense to move, too nervous to speak.

Joe extricated his arm from my shoulder and said, "Alright, Cupcake. Spill it."

"What?" I squeaked.

"Whats wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Stephanie, you're wound so tight Im expecting you to spring off this couch any minute."

I scooted a little further away from Joe and started to feel a little better. I could actually breathe again. "Nothing, really. Just a stressful week at work. And the damned car."

Joe seemed to accept that answer for now. "I have just the thing for that. Come over here and I'll rub your shoulders."

Joe wiggled his hips further back on the couch like he was making room for me between his legs. My mind totally blanked. I just stared at him, open mouthed for a beat.

Joe patted the cushion in front of him and continued, "I've been told I've got great hands."

_I bet_, I thought. I had first-hand knowledge of just how great those hands were and it had nothing to do with shoulder massages. Is this what I wanted? If I sat between his legs, there'd be no turning back. I would be opening myself up to a spectacular Morelli-induced orgasm and the potential for a broken heart.

Ah hell, who needs a heart anyway? We only live once.

I stood up from the couch and edged my way between his legs. He tugged on my wrists and I fell into the space he left for me. He slid his hands up my arms to my neck and brushed my hair to one side. The gentle stroke sent shivers up my spine despite the heat of the room. With both hands settled on my shoulders, he began to knead the muscles there until my body relaxed. This should be making me more uptight, being confined between Joe's legs with his hands on my body. But I wasn't feeling confined at all. I was feeling damn good. He worked my shoulders and then moved down my back and concentrated on the muscles between my shoulder blades. My eyes drooped closed, my head fell forward, and I released a satisfied sigh on a long exhale.

"So tell me about your job. What kind of lingerie do you buy?"

"Oh, you know. Bras, panties, teddies. All kinds of things." Joe moved his hands lower still and worked the muscles of my lower back. My muscles had turned to goo and I felt like I was about to slide right off the couch.

"Is this outfit you have on now something you bought for EE Martin?" Joe's voice had changed from earlier in the night. It was lower and rougher and my body responded to it. A skitter of excitement raced through me.

I'd almost forgotten I only had on a tank top and shorts. I looked down at myself and understood how he could mistake my outfit for underwear, especially since I didn't have anything on underneath it.

I cleared my throat, "No, I got these somewhere else."

"Oh, I really like them." Joe smoothed his hands up my back and started in on my shoulders again. "They're so soft and smooth, almost see-through, they're so worn." His voice was almost a purr now. He slipped one finger under the string of my tank top and eased it off my shoulder.

Every cell in my body came screaming to life, aching for attention by Joe. Next thing I knew, Joe kissed me on the curve where my shoulder meets my neck. His lips were soft and gentle and full, and I braced myself with my hands on his knees. His muscles twitched under my hands and my heart skipped knowing just how excited he was.

"Look at me, Stephanie," he asked as he helped me turn in his embrace. "You're beautiful," he murmured and then lowered his mouth to mine.

The kiss was soft at first, but grew hot and demanding. He licked my lips, asking for entrance to my mouth, and I opened it for him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Without breaking the kiss, I skootched until I was straddling Joe's lap. He slid his hands down my back and pulled my hips flush against him. I ground my body against his just to feel him fully aroused and pressed against me.

And then, Joe went still.

I was nearly breathless when Joe broke the kiss. "What's wrong?" I gasped.

Joe closed his eyes briefly, then tilted his hips to one side, rolling me onto the middle couch cushion, and stoop up. "I'm sorry, Steph, but I have to go."

"You have to go! What the hell are you talking about?"

Joe looked down at me. His eyes traveled slowly from my flushed face down my body, inch by inch, pausing at my breasts before moving lower. I glanced down at myself and saw that my nipples had hardened and were nearly poking through my worn tank top. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, exhaling through clenched teeth. "Fuck," he mumbled as he inched away.

"Now, there's an idea. Come back here," I purred, reaching out with my fingers.

Joe opened his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Stephanie. More than you could possibly imagine. But I can't." He turned on his heels and headed for the door.

My lust induced fog was lifting and my hormones were making the leap from sex-crazed nympho to rage-crazed maniac very quickly. I exploded off the couch and went after him. "You know what, Joe. This is exactly what I was talking about. I let you into my home and was about to let you into to me. And what do you do? You get up to fucking leave! Do you get some kind of kick off of getting me all worked up into a state and then walking out on me?"

Joe tore open the door and turned back to me. "No. That's not it."

"It doesn't really matter because, trust me, it's never gonna happen again. Get out of my house."

"Wait, Stephanie. Let me explain."

I cut him off with a wide sweep of my arm. "We're past that point. I don't want to hear your lies and excuses. I couldn't care less about you and your demented sex games."

"You don't mean that."

"The hell I don't." Joe stared hard at me, and I yelled, "Get out!"

Joe turned on his heel and left my apartment. I slammed the door, threw the deadbolt, and slid the chain home for good measure. Turning around, I screamed my anger and sexual frustration. Unfortunately, it didn't make me feel any better. I stormed into my room, slammed that door, too, flopped onto my bed and cried my eyes out until there were no tears left.


	3. Hottest!

**Part III: Hottest  
**(Joe's POV)

I winced when I heard Stephanie's apartment door slam shut behind me. She even made a production of throwing the deadbolt and using the chain, as if I needed any clarification of exactly how she felt. Christ, I really fucked this up.

Apparently, Steph's across the hall neighbor heard the commotion and peeked his head out of his own apartment to appraise the situation. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about her neighbor as male competition. This man was somewhere between 75 and 130 years old and must not be able to hear, considering how loud his TV was blaring in the background.

"Hey, that's Ms. Plum's apartment. What are you doing?" Guess he didn't find it necessary to wear his dentures this time of night either.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just leaving, Mr.?"

"Mr. Wolesky. And damn right you were. You're making me miss the Golden Girls and I don't like to miss my shows."

"It won't happen again," I promised. This was almost as bad as the time Mooch hit my baseball into Mrs. Mancusos backyard and I got caught jumping over her fence and landed in her begonia patch.

Mr. Wolesky sized me up one more time for good measure and slammed his door in my face, too. Guess I'm not so popular these days.

I waited for the elevator with my head hung low and shuffled my feet with impatience. The elevator dinged, and I glanced back at Steph's door one more time before stepping into the car. I slouched against the back of the elevator and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. I'd never walked out in the middle of sex before, what the hell was wrong with me? The elevator dinged again and the doors slid open on the first floor. I wanted her and I wanted her bad, but I stumbled out of the elevator, fighting the urge to run back up the stairs, and headed for the glass doors to the parking lot. I was going in the wrong direction, for chrissake.

Even at this time of night, the heat radiating from the macadam smacked me in the face. The lot was full of cars and well lit and I appreciated the landlord's attempt to keep the residents safe. Good, I won't have to worry about some creep jumping out from behind the Dumpster and assaulting Steph.

Panic wrapped around my heart like icy fingers. Despite the hot and steamy night, my blood ran cold at the thought of some bastard assaulting Stephanie. My Stephanie. My Cupcake. Something pretty close to rage melted the ice in my veins and a taunting laugh rumbled deep in my throat. I'd like to see someone try, I thought. With deadly conviction, I knew I'd kill any son of a bitch that so much as laid a finger on her.

Whoa! Where the hell did that come from? Ever since I saw her standing on the side of the road this afternoon, she's been sneaking into my every thought. Not just the usual _I-wonder-what-it'd-be-like-to-fuck-her_ thoughts. More like _I-wonder-what-it'd-be-like-to-kiss-her_ thoughts. And then once I'd kissed her...I shook my head and tried to wrap my brain around the idea that I had real feelings for Stephanie.

I unlocked my truck and climbed in, pulling the door closed behind me. I had to get the hell out of here. But with the key midway to the ignition, something pulled at me and I looked back up. And then I was counting up and across until I was certain I was staring at her apartment windows. The light in the living room was still on as well as a light in the room next door. Her bedroom, I thought.

Somewhere between rubbing Stephanie's back and her straddling me on the couch, something inside me had gone hay wire. I knew that I couldn't let her become just another one in a series of women Joe Morelli'd fucked. There really wasn't another word for it because that's all it had been. Anything else seemed too bland or too nice, made it seem better than it really was. Even after all those women over all these years, none of them had meant much more to me than a little company and sex. Absolutely none of them made me feel the way Stephanie Plum had tonight.

A fire escape ran right in front of Stephanie's bedroom window and I briefly considered climbing up the ladder and finishing what I had started. But that wouldn't be right. That's why I stopped in the first place, I reminded myself.

I started the truck and put it gear. I really did. But, I just couldn't bring myself to hit the gas. Instead, I rolled down the windows, shut off the ignition, and banged my head on the steering wheel. Fuck! I alternated banging my head and cursing for a good five minutes and only stopped because I didn't want to have to explain a knot on my forehead to the guys at the station in the morning.

Stephanie's delicate voice, softened to a whisper came back to me. _I'm scared, okay?_

God, me too. Scared shitless! I've never felt like this before. Stephanie clearly had scars from her past that hadn't quite healed. Her fear of rejection was obvious, thanks to her dickhead of an ex-husband, and well, if I was being totally honest, thanks to me too. And even still, she trusted me - trusted me enough to let me inside of her again. Her vulnerability hit me like a gut shot, nearly knocking the wind out of me, and thankfully, knocking some sense into me too. For the first time, I truly cared what a woman thought about me. I didn't want Stephanie to think I was only after sex. I wanted, hell I needed, more than that with her. I didn't want to blow my shot at a relationship with her because I took advantage of her vulnerability. And if my violent thoughts of protecting her are any indication, it'd be pretty safe to say that I'd do anything I could to keep from hurting her again.

"Stephanie," I moaned. Shit. I cringed just thinking about the emotional roller coaster she'd been riding since the first time...well, our first time. Christ, I just walked out on her for the third time. Twice just today. _Great time to start thinking with more than your dick, Morelli!!_ At the very least I owed her an explanation.

That is if she'll ever speak to me again.

Before I lost my nerve, I got out of my truck and strode to the glass doors of her apartment building for the second time tonight. I punched the up button on the elevator and paced back and forth to try and burn off some of my nervous energy. As I not-so-patiently waited, I remembered Mr. Wolesky and my promise to not disturb him again. And knowing Stephanie, it was going to take some coaxing before she'd let me back into her apartment. In my six years on the force, I've encountered my fair share of irate seniors, brandishing guns, ready to settle their problems once and for all. Maybe I should just wait until tomorrow to talk to her.

The elevator chime announced its arrival, but I turned and went back outside. Damn, she had me walking around in circles! Maybe a phone call, I considered. Nah. She'd hang up on me and take her phone off the hook. Might even call the police for harassment. And who could blame her? I had to talk to her. I couldn't stand the thought that she was hurting again and I had caused her pain. I had to explain.

I wandered back toward my truck and glanced up at her windows. Behind the iron grates of the fire escape, I could see that the lights were still on. Good. She was probably still awake. And then it hit me. The fire escape! Man, I hadn't done anything like this for years. It felt like I was in high school again trying to sneak into some girl's bedroom.

Glancing around the parking lot like a thug about to steal a car, I approached the fire escape and tugged on the ladder to be sure it would hold me. Stephanie's building was blocky, utilitarian, and looked study enough, but looks could be deceiving. The last thing I needed was to fall on my ass, break a leg, and have the cops called on me. The fire escape seemed solid, and after another quick look around the parking lot, I climbed the ladder.

Just as my upper body passed through the hole on the landing of Stephanie's fire escape, a cat jumped down from the railing and nearly scared the shit out of me. I lost my footing and grasped the railing just in time to keep from falling back down the ladder. The cat raised its shackles and hissed at me and I was positive that Stephanie would hear all the noise.

I stole a look into her window and saw her lying on her bed with her arms crossed over her chest and tears running down her face. It made me feel like hell.

I climbed the rest of the way onto the fire escape and whispered, "Stephanie!" Hmmm. No reaction. I tried again. "Stephanie," I said a little louder. This time the sound seemed to register and she wiped the tears from her face and looked around. Okay. One more time. "Stephanie!" I said in my normal voice. Her head spun around and she screamed at the top of her lungs when she saw me. "Shhh!" I begged while stepping into the light. "It's just me." _Like that was comforting, Dumbass._ "I just want to talk to you."

Stephanie scrambled off her bed and hid behind it. "Joe? What the hell? You scared me half to death." Relief washed over her as she stood back up.

"I need to explain..."

All at once, her anger came back to her. "Go away!" she shrieked.

I winced and hoped Mr. Wolesky couldn't hear her screaming over his TV. "Wait! I just wanted to tell you..."

"If you don't climb back down right this minute, I'm going to call the police." Her voice was steady and eerily calm.

"Call the cops. I don't care." I threw my hands up in the air in surrender. "But it will take them at least 5 minutes to respond unless someone's sitting in your parking lot and that will give me enough time to explain."

Stephanie hesitated just for a second and I hoped she was considering letting me in. Instead, she reached for the cordless phone on her night stand. "Last chance, Morelli. Leave. Now."

I stood still, nothing between us but a flimsy screen, and played chicken with her. I was betting she wouldn't call. I was betting her curiosity would get the better of her and let me finish. She squared her shoulders and waited for me to climb back down the ladder. When I didn't, she focused on the phone and began to dial. From the tone of the buttons, I could tell the first two numbers she pressed were 9 and 1. Fuck!

"I was scared, okay?" I said in a rush.

That seemed to do the trick. Her head snapped back up to me and she dropped her arm with the phone to her side. "Scared? _Yeah, Right_."

"I mean it."

"Oh, I get it now. That's what I said to you earlier tonight." She shook her head at me. "Now you're just throwing my words back in my face."

"No! It's true. You freaked me out." Stephanie barked a laugh. "No. That didn't come out right." I scrubbed my hands over my face and ran my hands through my hair. "Christ, I don't know what I'm saying, I've never felt like that before and it scared the shit out of me."

"This should be good," she said on an eye roll. "How did you feel, Joe?"

"I told you, I don't know. Different. Like I wanted to hold you and spend the night with you and hold you again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. I cared about what you thought about me. I was worried that you thought I only wanted to fuck you and I didn't want you to feel used. I wanted you to know you meant something to me, that you were special, different from all the other girls I've... And I panicked. No woman has ever been special to me, meant something to me."

Stephanie was shocked. The phone slipped from her fingers and she just stared at me, unblinkingly, like she couldn't believe what I'd said.

"I'm sorry for making you cry. God, I hate it when you cry. I just wanted to give you an explanation. You deserved an explanation. I'm sorry, Stephanie. I know I've blown it, but I just had to tell you." I closed my eyes and moved toward the hole in fire escape. Maybe if I didn't look at her anymore, it wouldn't hurt so bad.

My left foot was on the first rung of the ladder. "Joe, wait." Stephanie had moved to the window and was struggling with removing the screen. Under her breath, she mumbled, "Goddamn screens." I lunged forward and busted the screen out of the track with extraordinary speed and absolutely no finesse. She laughed at the mangled mess and said, "Wait." She held her hand through the empty window and reached out to me. I grabbed a hold of her wrist and climbed through the open window. "Did you mean what you said? I really am special to you?"

"My God, Cupcake. Like no other woman I could ever hope to meet. You're one of a kind. The sexiest, most frustrating, free-spirited, surprisingly vulnerable, and yet toughest woman I've ever known. You're down-right frightening."

She laughed through tears. "You say the sweetest things."

"Well, you know, I am a Morelli. Charm runs through my veins as sure as blood." She smiled at me so sweetly, my heart swelled. The first real smile she'd given me since I'd seen her today. "That's all I wanted to say. I guess I should be going. I know you've got a busy day tomorrow." _God, please don't make me go._

I took a step back towards her window. "It's not _that_ busy," she said blushing.

I took one step closer. "Can I stay? Just for a while?"

"You could stay all night. But, will you?"

"I'll stay as long as you'll let me." An unspoken promise arced between us then. I didn't worry about hurting her anymore and she didn't worry about me abandoning her anymore. We trusted each other.

I pulled Stephanie to me and wrapped her up in my arms. "I'm so sorry for hurting you, Cupcake." Stephanie wiggled her body even closer to mine and sighed into my neck. My body stiffened as shivers ran down my spine from the feel of her heated breath on my neck.

Stephanie pulled back, just a little, and asked, "What? Whats wrong?" She was absolutely beautiful. Face flushed, her deep blue eyes bright and shiny, and her pink lips barely parted. She took my breath away.

"You're driving," I paused to swallow and clear my throat, trying to get some moisture back to my mouth to smooth the gravel from my voice. "You're driving me wild. You're so beautiful."

Her face changed then, all remnants of concern gone, and in its place was desire, a hungry desire, a starved desire. She ground her hips against me and my body bucked against her involuntarily. "Do something about it then."

All of the sudden, it was like a switch was flipped in my brain. My body was driven more by instinct than conscious thought. My mouth crashed down on hers and I kissed her with a desperation to consume her, to learn everything about her, to possess her. My hands roamed her body, learning her every curve and smooth flat expanse. Her fingers clawed at me, digging into my back, dragging me even closer.

I pulled back to lose some clothes and was overcome by Stephanie's beauty. Her eyes were glossy, half dazed with desire. Her lips were bright pink and slightly swollen from being taken so hard. Her body bore the marks of my hands where I'd grabbed a hold of her. Her skin was flushed both from the heat of the night and the heat of my touch and it glistened with a sheer layer of sweat. Just as I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind, sweat on her chest condensed into a single drip that fell from just below her collarbone and rolled down her chest, following the contours of her body, rolling around the swell of her breast, and disappearing into her cleavage under her nearly see-through tank top. She watched me as my eyes traced the trail that that one drop of sweat followed and her nipples nearly spiked through the sheer fabric.

I dragged my shirt up and over my head and tossed it aside. Quickly, I fumbled with my belt and dropped my pants too. I kicked out of my shoes as I stepped closer to Stephanie. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and I lost it. I launched myself to her, tackling her back onto the bed. She wrapped her arms and legs around me and kissed my neck and shoulders. As delicate as that top of her was, it didn't take more than a good tug and it ripped in two pieces exposing her naked breasts to my eyes.

I purposefully slowed down and took my time lavishing her body with attention - kissing my way down her neck and collarbone, and her bare chest to her perfect breasts. Her nipples were drawn up tight and bright pink and I drew lazy circles around them with my tongue, sucking them into my mouth, blowing against her skin, driving her wild. Her body shook underneath me. Her hips swiveled and squirmed and her hands were tangled in my hair. I worked my way further down her body, trailing open mouthed kisses on her belly, paying particular attention to her belly button, and then moving lower still. I pulled her shorts down and kept moving lower until I was situated between Stephanie's legs.

"Please," she panted.

I drove her wild then, bringing her to brink of climax over and over, but not letting her go flying over the cliff. Not without me. My body was twitching and straining to get into her, so when she begged me again, "Please, Joe," I crawled up her body, poised and ready to bury myself in her. She grabbed my hips and pulled me into her, digging her nails into my butt cheeks, and I surged forward, taking her in one strong, smooth motion. We both yelled out at the contact. Again, my instincts took over, pumping into her, faster and faster, until we were both out of breath, dripping with sweat, and then Stephanie broke. Her orgasm hit her hard, slamming her body into mine, her inner muscles grabbing onto me, clinching and then releasing, over and over, tight and then tighter, and then I lost control too, my own release spasming inside of her, hitting me from behind, causing me to arch over her, pressing her into the mattress with my hips, until we were both completely drained and utterly satisfied.

I fell onto her body to catch my breath, but I only stayed there a minute. She wouldn't be able to breathe underneath me so I rolled to one side, bringing her with me. Our bodies slid against each other, slippery with sweat. "My God," I breathed.

"Yeah," she exhaled.

My body was still reeling from aftershocks and my mind was still trying to wrap itself around the developments of the night. For the first time in my life, I had no urge to jump out of bed and get home as fast as I could. I felt like I could stay right here forever. "I think you killed me." Stephanie smiled. A very self-satisfied smile. "I don't think I can ever do that again."

Her smile turned into a fake pout. "Oh, that's too bad." She pushed me the rest of the way over and rolled on top of me, straddling my hips. "It was _really_ good. _Really, really_ good. Guess this next time; I'll just have to be in control." She raised herself up onto her arms and looked down at me. Her breasts swayed with her movements as she ground her hips against mine. My body hardened despite the orgasm I'd just had.

"I'm all yours," I told her.

And we lived happily ever after.


End file.
